


Sunnydale Lost

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Biblical Mythology, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Nightside Series - Simon R. Green
Genre: Angels, Episode: s02e06 Halloween, Gen, Halloween, YAHF, no prior knowledge of the Nightside series necessary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That Halloween, Buffy chose to don a white dress and a pair of angelic wings instead of the noblewoman's outfit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is an oooooold fic, from 2010. However, I was looking at the half-written pages from chapter two, and decided to write some more of it. Chapter two will go up when it is done. I admit, I mostly decided to write more of it because I've been writing Nightside crossovers lately and I thought, _'hey, what happened to that good Buffy one I was writing way back?'_ So here you go.
> 
> *edit*  
> For those who are interested, I wrote a brief [Introduction to the Nightside series](http://aceofannwn.dreamwidth.org/671.html) for anyone unfamiliar with it.

**Chapter One**

Buffy frowned as she examined the racks of costumes. Her last date with Angel hadn't gone so well, and what she really wanted was something that would impress him, something that could help things move along between them.

She knew there were going to be problems, a two hundred year old vampire and a teenage vampire slayer dating, but she hadn't expected it to be this hard. Maybe that had been dumb of her, but that was how it was.

She'd thought about dressing up like the girl in the Watcher's diary, and she'd even found the perfect dress, but… while she and Willow had been marvelling over it, Willow has suddenly got a hesitant look on her face.

"Buffy…" she ventured.

"It looks just like the one in the drawing," Buffy continued, not really paying attention to the sudden change in Willow's tone of voice.   
"Yeah, it does," Willow agreed unhappily. "But, Buffy, isn't that sort've… like false advertising?"

"What?" Buffy finally looked away from the dress to give her friend a confused look.

"I mean," Willow explained, a little nervously, "what if Angel takes it the wrong way? This isn't the 18th century anymore. If you want things to work between you he needs to accept that you're a modern 20th century girl. Just, what if he gets the wrong idea and thinks you're willing to be all, delicate and meek and stuff?"

Buffy had reacted with consternation, but when she thought about it, Willow was probably right. She was a kick-ass vampire slayer, for crying out loud, not some 'delicate flower' who needed protecting and would just do whatever a man told her to. So the Lady Buffy costume was out.

Xander had picked out a toy machine gun and had some army fatigues at home, so he'd sorted out his costume, and was now trying to convince Willow to pick something a bit more interesting this year than her usual ghost outfit, leaving Buffy to look for her own costume herself.

Buffy gave a sigh and was close to giving up when she noticed some feathers hiding behind a bunch of costumes near the back of the store.

Curiously she reached up to push the other costumes out of the way, and pulled out

…an enormous set of white, angelic wings.

Buffy couldn't help her gasp of appreciation. The wings were pretty realistic-looking, instead of the usual silly fluffy things that got sold as costumes, and they were made of real feathers. It must have taken a lot of time and effort to make these, What was really impressive though was the fact that they were actually six wings, all packed closely together, all attaching to a sort of harness-thing that went around the torso.

"Quite magnificent, aren't they?" said a voice just behind Buffy.

She jumped and whipped around to see the shop owner standing there, looking at the costume wings.

"They came from some stage production, I believe," the man continued, unperturbed by Buffy's startled reaction. "Far better quality than the usual costume wings. They go with this outfit, here."

He reached into the rack, and pushing several things aside, pulled out a long white dress with bell sleeves.

"It's beautiful," Buffy said happily. "Although, what's with all the wings? Isn't that kinda overkill?"

"I do believe that the number of wings indicates that it is an archangel costume, rather than that of a mere angel," the shop owner explained. "I am sure you would look delightfully in it."

Buffy's face fell as reality caught up to her.

"I can't. There's no way I can afford something like that," she replied sadly. She tried to smile. "Thanks anyway."

"Nonsense," the shop owner declared briskly. "I feel quite… moved… to make you an offer you can't refuse." He gently took hold of Buffy's shoulders and steered her to the nearest mirror, and held the simple gown up against her to give Buffy an idea of what it would look like on.

Buffy stared at her reflection, imagining what she would look like if she wore the dress with the wings out behind her, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, done in loose curls maybe…

"Well, if you're sure…" she said uncertainly, unwilling to pass on the awesome costume if she could possibly afford it somehow.

Ethan Rayne smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

** **

* * *

"Spike? Do you love my insides? The bits you can't see?"

Spike turned away from the TV screen to look at the other vampire, who looked as dreamy as usual, and was carrying one of her dolls.

"Eyeballs to entrails, my sweet," he replied, not in the least discomposed by the odd question. "That's why I have to stuff this Slayer. Once I know her, I can kill her. And once I kill her, you can have your run of Sunnyhell and get well again."

Most vampires didn't have a romantic bone in their body. William, on the other hand, had been enough of a romantic before being Turned that some of it couldn't help but stick.

"Don't worry," Drusilla said pensively. "Everything's switching. Outside to inside. She will burn in the light."

Spike blinked; that was an unusually cryptic pronouncement, even for Drusilla.

"Really," he asked, intrigued. _Burning in the light?_ The only thing he could think of that could cause such a thing was being turned to a vampire. This sounded promising. "Did my pet have a vision?"

"Do you know what I miss?" Drusilla asked in a complete non-sequitur. "Leeches."

"Talk to daddy," Spike said patiently, used to these abrupt changes of subject. "This thing that makes the Slayer burn. When is it?"

"Tomorrow," Drusilla responded.

"But tomorrow's Halloween," Spike protested skeptically. "Nothing happens on Halloween."

"Someone's come to change it all," Drusilla said, in a far-away voice. "Someone new."

She shivered, and cuddled up to the male vampire.

"The flame will burn us all," she muttered, very softly; but Spike was already giving orders, and didn't pay any attention.

** **

* * *

Xander approached the Summers' residence dressed in a set of military fatigues and the cheap plastic machine gun he'd picked up from Ethan's earlier.

He wasn't entirely sure what Buffy had bought – whatever it was, it had to be pretty complicated, because Buffy had popped up next to he and Willow carrying not only a large plastic bag, but a giant protective zip-up bag that had a plastic handle protruding from the top.

As he knocked on the door he wondered idly whether Willow would be wearing the cowgirl costume Buffy had talked her into buying. It was a cute costume, and not very revealing, but even so it would probably show too much skin for Willow, who was painfully shy about that sort of thing.

"Cowgirl Willow or Ghost Willow?" he asked aloud, right before the door opened.

"Private Harris," Xander announced, walking inside, "reporting for – "

His eyes found Buffy, and he totally forgot about what he was saying as his mouth fell open.

Buffy was a vision in white, with a large pair of intricately-made feathery wings stretching out behind her, and carefully set hair falling across her shoulders in loose golden curls. She was smiling at Xander's stunned expression.

"Buffy," Xander proclaimed. "Angel Buffiel. I am in awe. I completely renounce spandex."

Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"'Angel Buffiel?'"

"Hey," Xander defended himself, "I was rendered speechless in the face of such beauty. My usual dashing vocabulary deserted me."   
Buffy smiled at him.

"Hi…" Willow's voice came unsurely from the stairs.

The angel and the soldier turned to see… a figure hiding beneath a large white sheet with the word 'BOO' written on it.

Buffy sighed in disappointment. Her friend was never going to get male attention if she couldn't muster up just a _teeny_ amount of confidence!

"Hey, Will, that's a nice 'boo' you have there," Xander greeted Willow diplomatically.

"Come on," Buffy grumbled. "Let's go."

She shot Willow a 'what gives?' look as they followed Xander out the door, but the sheet-covered figure just hung its head miserably.   
Buffy just shook her head.

The three friends turned up at the school to find kids running everywhere.

"Cool wings!" a little girl in a fairy outfit chirped in awe.

"Thanks," Buffy said, smiling down at her. The kid was adorable, and the look of admiration was pretty cute too.

"No need to talk to them, Summers!" Snyder snapped, appearing at her shoulder with two children. "The last thing they need is your influence. Here's your group. Just bring them back in one piece and I won't expel you."

He stalked away, and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Hey," she told the kids. "I'm Buffy. Come on. Let's go get some candy."

The kids all agreed with this suggestion.

It turned out taking a few kids trick-or-treating wasn't as bad as Buffy had anticipated, although someone her own age to talk to would have been nice.

Buffy consoled herself with the fact that she would be meeting up with Angel later, and he was bound to be bowled over by her costume. Her half-hearted smile brightened at the thought.

"What'd Mrs Davis give you?" she asked the kids, as they returned from the current house looking dejected.

The kids opened their hands in unison to reveal brand-new toothbrushes.

Buffy fought the urge to giggle at their looks of indignant disappointment.

"She must be stopped," she said solemnly, before grinning brightly. "Let's hit one more house. We still have a few minutes before we've got to get back."

With happy whoops and smiles her group of children ran off towards the next house.

** **

* * *

On the other side of town, Ethan's was closed for the night, but the store wasn't empty. In the back room stood a figure in a black robe, kneeling before a statue.

" _The world that denies thee, thou inhabit. The peace that ignores thee, thou corrupt._ "

Dabbing blood on his face, Ethan continued his incantations.

" _Janus, this night is yours!_ " he finished in Latin.

The candles suddenly blew out, leaving the statue glowing a sickly green.

Ethan pulled back his hood, and a wicked smirk spread across his face.

"Showtime."

** **

* * *

Buffy was about to call out to her group of kids that it was time to head back when something exploded within her.

Light burst from every cell and raced through her veins. Buffy collapsed onto the road, her head colliding with the bitumen, but she wasn't aware of it. A Presence bloomed within her and spread out throughout Buffy's body and mind, so bright and pure that it burned away everything in its path, consuming everything that was not good and strong, and hollowing her out inside.

All of Buffy's petty worries and insecurities and grievances were swept away in that wall of holy flame; all her small attachments and unimportant quirks of personality ebbed away in the blaze of fire, leaving only the strong, basic elements of who she was. The Slayer spirit seethed and sent out tendrils everywhere, latching on as best it could; but there was a wave of righteous anger from the Presence at the demonic taint, and even it was swept away and withered into nothing under the onslaught of such holy power.

Wearing the mortal body like a shell, the Presence twitched its fingers, feeling the digits curl and uncurl.

Emerald eyes opened in a perfect, ageless face surrounded by locks that glowed like liquid gold. They gazed out at the imperfect world, overrun by darkness, and felt their Purpose strengthen, determined to sanctify this cursed path of land and cast out the damned and the soulless.

Thre pairs of shining wings unfolded, radiating light like a bright star in the night, dwarfing the body they were attached to with their size and sheer strength.

A sword appeared in one gently golden hand, bright and silver.

The six wings began to beat, and the Archangel Uriel – Archangel of Light, of Repentance, but also of Heavenly Fire and Divine Punishment – ascended into the night.   



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are interested, I wrote a brief [Introduction to the Nightside series](http://aceofannwn.dreamwidth.org/671.html) for anyone unfamiliar with it.

**Chapter Two**

Elsewhere, Willow was attempting to deal with a skeptical Private Harris, who, as far as he was concerned, had been fighting a battle only minutes earlier, and had no idea who Willow was. Willow herself had been turned into a ghost, leaving her dressed in the cowgirl costume she’d been wearing underneath. It could have been worse, she supposed. The outfit was more revealing than she was used to, but it wasn’t too bad.

She was in the middle of arguing with Private Harris, trying to convince him that he was really Xander, when there was a loud roar. They turned to face what looked like a small dragon to their left.

“Omigosh!” Willow squeaked.

_“Shit,”_ said Private Harris. The dragon snarled, and moved closer.

Private Harris immediately shot at it with his machine gun, but the only effect this seemed to have was to aggravate the creature. There was another aggressive roar.

“Don’t!” Willow cried out. “It’s not really a dragon! There’s a little kid in there somewhere!”

“Then what the hell do you suggest we do?” Harris demanded.

“Allow me,” said a voice. Willow and Harris looked around to see a skinny young man a few years older than them wearing a dirty white trenchcoat step forward.

“Hey!” said the man in the trenchcoat. “You! Quit that!” The dragon eyed him menacingly. “There’s no need to bother these people. They don’t know what’s going on, either.”

The dragon didn’t show any signs that it wanted to be reasonable. The man sighed.

“You two. Cowgirl and Soldier Boy. I’d start running.”

“What–” Willow began, but the next second the man pulled his hands out of his coat and threw something into the dragon’s eyes. The dragon howled with pain, and the young man hurled himself aside just in time to avoid being flash-fried by the gout of flame the dragon exhaled.

“Run!” Harris ordered, and he and Willow turned and ran in the opposite direction, the man in the trenchcoat joining them. They could hear the dragon’s pained bellowing as they put distance between them and it.

“What did you do?” Willow asked, as the three of them came to a stop a few blocks later.

“Pepper,” the man in the trenchcoat said simply, and a little smugly. “Never leave home without it.” He narrowed his eyes at Willow. “Back there, you seemed to have some idea what the hell’s going on. So, why don’t you explain for the rest of us?”

Willow took a deep, unnecessary breath.

“Everyone turned into their Halloween costumes,” she told him, expecting to be disbelieved.

“Huh. Okay.”

“That’s it?” Willow stared at him incredulously. “I tell you everyone turned into their Halloween costumes, and you say _‘okay?’_ ”

The man shrugged.

“More surprising things happen ever day, where I come from.” He ran a hand over his face, and nodded. “Explains why I’m in someone else’s body. I was wondering about that.” He glanced down at his clothes. “So, some kid bought my coat? I’m surprised he wasn’t eaten.”

Willow looked at his face. He was completely serious. 

She edged a bit further away.

Apparently the man noticed.

“Don’t worry, it’ll behave while I’m wearing it,” he assured her.

Harris eyed the coat speculatively, as though pondering its potential usefulness.

“Your coat can eat things?”

“Yeah. And sometimes the pockets are bigger on the inside, but not always, which can be a bit uncomfortable if I’ve got something large in there when it’s decided to revert. I once accidentally cracked a vial of Re’em blood I’d forgotten I’d stored in there, and then I got caught in the middle of a fight between a chaos mage and a quantum uncertainty adept. _I_ came out of it just fine, but my coat’s never been the same since.”

Willow tried not to think too much about this disturbing revelation, and forced her mind back onto the track it had been on before the bizarre man had distracted her.

“We need to find Buffy,” she said with determination. “She dressed as an angel. She can help us stop the spell.”

The soldier didn’t look as though he had any problems with this, but the eyes of the man in the white trenchcoat widened.

“ _Hell_ no,” he said firmly. “Not if you want to live a long and remotely happy life.”

“But she’s an angel!” Willow protested.

“So what? All that means is that she’s a supernatural soldier with no free will. Do you know what angels think of Earth? They think of it as a great big world full of sinners. To them it’s a place of iniquity and sin and wickedness. The first thing they think when they see a human being isn’t to help them; it’s that they’ve seen an impure soul. And you know what angels do to impurity? They destroy it with fire and grace. Your friend might not hurt you, but right now the angel’s driving, and trust me, _it_ wouldn’t hesitate.”

“And how would you know, you – you big poopyhead?” Willow retorted. “Who are you, anyway?”

The man sent her an incredulous look at the childish insult, but replied,

“My name’s John Taylor.” He extracted a business card from one pocket. “Soldier Boy, hold this for the lady, will you. She’s got a bit of an incorporeality problem at the moment. I’m a P.I. in the Nightside, the one place neither Heaven nor Hell can touch. It’s a place full of horrors and wonders alike, and a while back the angels declared war on us and tried to raze it to the ground. So you could say we got a nice, intimate look at what an angel really is. They’re not quite the pleasant picture everyone likes to paint.”

Willow bit her lip, feeling undecided. Angels were supposed to be _good,_ weren’t they? And surely Buffy wouldn’t hurt her, possessed or not. But on the other hand, Willow was Jewish, which meant she’d _read_ all the really old stories about angels, and there were some tales where angels didn’t seem like very nice people. It was an angel, after all, who had arranged the death of every first-born son in Egypt, and everyone knew what had happened to Sodom and Gomorrah… 

“Okay then, mister.” Willow made up her mind. “We’ll leave Buffy alone. But if we’re not looking for her then we need to find Giles. He’ll know what to do.”

John didn’t look convinced, but didn’t protest.

“Let’s go, then, before we run into any more of these things,” Harris said matter-of-factly. Willow nodded and began to drift away rapidly in the direction of Sunnydale High. The other two followed. “Who is this guy, and how do you know he can help?” Harris added.

“Rupert Giles,” Willow replied, “and he’s a Watcher. They’re this group of British people who know a lot of supernatural stuff.”

The small group stopped as John Taylor gave a shout of laughter.

“ _Ripper?_ ” he exclaimed in amusement. “Ripper Giles? That foul-mouthed little punk joined the Watcher’s Council?” He shook his head. “I heard about that Eyghon business. I suppose that’d be enough to scare most people onto the straight and narrow.” He sobered, and looked at Willow with a suddenly incisive stare. “But considering we’re on a Hellmouth, that probably means there’s a Slayer in this town.”

“How do you know about the Slayer?” Willow stalled, diverted from her incredulity at John’s description of Giles and the thought that it couldn’t possibly be the same person.

“I’m John Taylor. I know a lot of things.”

“Well, yeah. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but it’s Halloween and everyone’s turned into their costumes and I’m a ghost and Xander doesn’t even know who he is and you seem to know a lot about all of this –”

Harris’ eyebrows had slowly risen towards his hairline, and John was looking slightly amazed at the amount of babble.

“– so although I know she’s not going to be pleased because she _hates_ not being normal and Giles is probably going to be cross, it’s Buffy. The Slayer is Buffy,” Willow finished in a burst of nervous energy.

Harris clearly had no clue what they were talking about, but John stared.

“Wait. Your friend, the angel, is the Slayer.”

“Yeah.” 

“What’s a Slayer?” Harris asked, and was ignored.

“Well, that’ll be interesting,” John mused dryly.

“What do you mean?” Willow asked.

John looked at her as though debating whether or not to share what he was thinking.

“Well, what do you think is going to happen when the angel’s Presence runs up against the demonic essence of the Slayer?”

“ _WHAT?_ ” Willow screeched.

John sighed, but began to explain.

* * *

Giles was putting a book back on the shelf in the library when Willow dashed through the wall.

“GNYAAAHH!”

John and Harris entered more prosaically, through the door. John was looking amused at John’s startled yell.

“Willow?” Giles asked in shock, absently picking up the dropped book and putting it back on the shelf without really being aware of what he was doing. John was grinning a bit at the automatic reaction. 

“Hello Ripper,” he said loudly.

Giles spun away from Willow at that, to see the young man in the dirty white trenchcoat regarding him with a horribly familiar and rather unpleasant smirk on his face.

Giles paled and took a step back. The face was different, but everything else was the same.

“ _John Taylor?_ ”

Then he glanced at Willow and back at John again, and seemed to recover.

“What have you done to my student!” he growled angrily.

Willow looked wide-eyed at his tone of voice.

“Careful, Ripper, you’re scaring the kid,” John said lightly. “I didn’t do a damn thing. Why do I always get blamed for this kind of mess? No, you’ve got a chaos mage in town somewhere, and half your population’s turned into their Halloween costumes. Somehow the kid this body belongs to got hold of my coat, and I was dragged here like every other monster roaming the streets right now.”

Giles stared hard at John for a moment longer, trying to judge the veracity of his words, before pulling off his glasses and vigorously cleaning them.

“Good lord!”

John looked amused again, giving Giles the once-over.

“Glasses? Tweed? You really did run as fast as you could in the other direction, didn’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Giles eyes narrowed, and his tone was distinctly frosty.

Harris cleared his throat impatiently.

“You’ve been informed of the situation. What are you going to do about it?”

“Well, first we need to work out exactly what’s powering the spell, and how,” Giles responded, allowing John’s remark about tweed and glasses to slide.

He looked expectantly at John. Willow and Harry both turned to look at him as well, with expressions of curious expectancy.

“Oh hell no,” John snapped. “Use my gift on a hellmouth, in someone else’s body, in the middle of a chaos spell? No, we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”

“Drat. That’s going to take so much longer, and I very much doubt that the citizens of Sunnydale have time to spare.”

John rolled his eyes, and turned to Willow.

“Kid,” he asked pointedly, “where did you and your friends buy your costumes?”

“Oh, it was the new place,” Willow volunteered. “Ethan’s.”

Giles froze, his face slowly darkening with fury. John looked smug.

“See? It’s all about knowing the right questions to ask.”

“I don’t understand,” Willow frowned.

“Ripper here just happens to know a chaos mage by the name of Ethan, don’t you Ripper?” John asked cheerfully.

“So he can talk to him?” Harris clarified.

“And everyone can be change back? Even Buffy?” Willow asked eagerly. Giles eyes widened.

“Buffy is also affected? I assumed she was running about trying to do something about the situation.”

John snorted. 

“She probably is. According to Willow, she dressed as an angel.”

“Oh my. Um. Well. Perhaps we should attempt to approach her and gain her assistance?” Giles suggested hesitantly.

“I wouldn’t,” said John. “Angels in the grip of holy fervour can be pretty indiscriminate.”

“Ah. Yes. I see what you mean.” Giles turned to Willow. “Willow, what’s the address of Ethan’s store? I think he and I need to have a little chat.”

Willow gave him the address, and with a nod and a determined stride, Giles turned and left the library, the others following.

* * *

The store was dark and apparently deserted, but the door was open and unlocked.

“That looks awfully like someone’s expecting us,” John observed. He was standing nonchalantly, with his hands back in his pockets. He seemed completely unbothered by everything that had happened so far, and Willow wondered who he was and where he had come from, really. She couldn’t help wondering about Giles, too: John seemed to know a side to the Watcher that Willow had never seen before.

“It does, doesn’t it,” Giles agreed, and entered the store anyway. Harris held his gun ready, senses on high alert as they entered the backroom of the store.

There was an altar with a statue on it.

“That’s Janus, a Roman mystical god,” said Giles, staring at the statue.

“Something tells me we’ve found what we’re looking for,” John said cheerfully. He stopped suddenly, and turned to look into the shadows. “This is a nice little set-up you’ve pulled off here, Rayne. I’m almost impressed.”

Everyone else turned to follow John’s gaze as a man stepped out of the shadows, smiling.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” the warlock agreed. “Not to blow my own horn, but – it’s genius. The very embodiment of 'be careful what you wish for.' John Taylor. It's been a while. I wondered, when I sold the coat.”

“It’s sick,” Giles said fiercely. “And brutal. It harms the innocent–”

“Oh, and we all know that you are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good, Rupert,” Ethan retorted. “This is quite an act you've got going here, old man.”

“It's no act,” said Giles coldly. “It's who I am.”

“It's who you are? The Watcher? Snivelling tweed-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin? I think not. I know who you are. And I know what you're capable of.”

“Good for you. Now shut up,” John told him. “We’re not here for the nostalgia. Let me explain things to you, nice and simple. If you don’t tell us how to end the spell I’m going to get upset, suddenly and violently and all over the place.”

Before Ethan could answer, radiant light streamed into the room. The blood drained from his face as he stared towards the door.

Willow , Harris, Giles and John all turned to see the archangel standing in the doorway.

The angel was beautiful and fierce and stern all at once, and shining like a small sun. It was just possible for those who knew her to make out Buffy’s features, but otherwise no one would have connected the perky Slayer with this vision of holy wrath.

The angel was staring straight at John.

“Oh, hell,” said John. “It just isn’t my day.”

“John Taylor,” said the archangel. Its voice was like the sound of bells, pure and resonant. “Prince of the Nightside, and most feared among its denizens.”

Giles gaped.

“Yeah,” John said, doing a remarkably good impression of someone keeping their cool. “That’s me. Although I’d prefer it if you forgot the title.”

He met the shining emerald eyes without flinching. No one else could even glance at them.

“You have defied your birth and sought to act in righteousness. Redemption may yet be achieved.”

John’s face went blank with shock.

“What is it that you do here?” continued the angel. She looked vaguely curious.

“Um.” John appeared to be having trouble processing the angel’s words and for once, he didn’t have a glib reply ready.

“We intend to break the chaos spell over the town,” Giles said humbly.

The angel’s gaze turned to Ethan Rayne, who cringed. “Ethan Rayne. Repent and seek redemption while you still may, worshipper of Eyghon.”

Ethan had been staring at the angel in horror, but now he managed a sickly smile. It wasn’t the cocky smirk he’d been aiming for, but it was still impressive under the circumstances. 

“A bit late for that,” he retorted. “I’m already damned.”

“Not while you still live and breathe,” the angel contradicted him. “I am Uriel, Patron of Repentance and Redemption, and I judge that there is hope for you yet.” The angel’s face softened, and became almost kind. “Take this opportunity offered to you, and leave the path of wickedness behind, Ethan.”

The angel shifted, wings moving, and was gone. There was a stunned silence.

“Whew,” said John. “Right. You heard the angel. Maybe a good start would be breaking the spell, don’t you think?”

Looking shell-shocked, Ethan nodded slowly. Crossing to where the bust of Janus sat, he threw it on the floor. It smashed into pieces.

The next moment Willow sucked in a huge breath, eyes flying open. She was lying on the footpath where she’d been standing the moment that the spell had taken hold, and she was all alone.

Getting unsteadily to her feet – it felt weird to be embodied again – Willow hoped that her friends were okay.


	3. Chapter 3

** CHAPTER THREE **

The next morning, everyone congregated in the library, as they usually did. Buffy’s absence was immediately obvious.

“Has anyone seen Buffy this morning?” Giles asked, and both Xander and Willow shook their heads. “I see. Have either of you exhibited any side effects from the events of last night?”

“It felt weird being back in my body, for a while,” Willow offered. “But I feel fine now.” 

“I’m pretty sure I know how to load and fire a gun, and I had dreams about being in Vietnam all night,” said Xander. “Besides that, though, I’m good. No problems here. I can deal with a few weird nightmares.”

Giles sighed.

“Then I suppose the only question remaining is what happened to Buffy after the spell worn off. Neither of you were able to find her last night?”

“Nuh-uh,” said Willow.

“I stopped by her house this morning, and Mrs S. said she didn’t come home last night,” Xander replied grimly. Everyone paused to think about the implications of that.

“John said that even if she survived being possessed by an archangel, which isn’t a thing people are meant to do, that doesn’t mean she’ll be okay. He said she could come out of it damaged, or just not Buffy anymore, or anything,” Willow said worriedly. “Giles? Will Buffy be okay?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Willow.” Giles was just as worried. “This is new territory. Angelic possessions may have occurred before, but I have been unable to find any records of them. And certainly the fact that the possessed person is the Slayer would have an effect, but I’m not sure what that might be.”

Willow ’s face paled.

“What if there’s something wrong?” she demanded. “What if Buffy’s hurt, or – or–” She stopped, unable to continue.

“All that we can do is search for her,” said Giles, his voice grave. “And hope that we find her.”

* * *

Several hours later, they found out where she was.

Buffy was sitting on a pew near the front of the big Catholic cathedral, staring unblinkingly at the cross above the altar. She was still wearing the gown from her costume, although the fake wings were gone. The skin of her back showed through the holes where the wings had been.

“Buffy?” Willow asked, looking worried.

Buffy didn’t reply, or look around, but continued gazing at the front of the church.

“Buffy?” This time it was Giles who spoke. He sat cautiously on the seat next to her, and watched her carefully. “Buffy, are you alright?”

“I see you lost the wings,” Xander commented, trying to get some kind of response. “Did they get trashed in the chaos last night, or what?”

“I didn’t lose them,” Buffy said in a quiet voice. “They’re still there.”

There was something different about her voice, some quality in it that hadn’t been there before, and it was more melodious than they were used to.

Buffy turned to face her friends.

Willow gasped. 

Buffy’s skin had a soft and delicate look, and its previous tanned shade had turned a light bronze-gold. Her facial features were finer, and more even, and her face held a nuance of expression that it had lacked before. There was greater determination and character, but also a patience and an understanding that had previously been absent. And instead of merely expressive hazel eyes, Buffy looked out of eyes that were the clear colour of emeralds, brilliant and bright, and with a world of emotion in them.

“Buffy?” Giles’ voice expressed his concern and consternation.

Buffy tipped her head slightly to one side, and regarded him with a look of unexpected resolve and introspection. 

“Eluriel,” she said, and there was a wealth of meaning in her voice.

“Oh, dear,” Giles exhaled, and cleaned his glasses reflexively.

“What?” Xander asked. “Giles? Buffy?”

“Xander,” Willow said hesitantly, “I think… I think last night might not have completely worn off. For Buffy.”

Xander thought about this for a second, then turned back to Buffy in realisation.

“Wait, so you’re what, an angel now?”

Buffy gave a shuddering sigh, and nodded.

“An angel with a human soul, which isn’t supposed to happen. An angel with free will. I’m an… impossible thing.”

“Are you still the Slayer?” Willow asked. Buffy shook her head, lip curling in disgust at the mention of the Slayer Spirit. 

“Not anymore. A thing like that can’t coexist with an angelic presence.” Her gaze was distant. “I can’t explain to you, what it’s like right now. I have this compulsion, telling me who I am, what my purpose is, and it… it’s as strong as breathing. Fighting it even a little is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I can’t ignore it, and I don’t want to.”

“What do you mean?” Giles asked gently, looking perturbed.

“I can’t stay here,” Buffy said abruptly. “I don’t fit in anymore. This isn’t my place now, and I know what I must do. I’ll stay until the end of the school term, and then I’m leaving to fulfil my Purpose.”

“ _What?_ ” Giles, Willow, and Xander chorused.

“Buffy–” Giles began.

“No.” Buffy shook her head sharply. “I’m not Buffy anymore, Giles. Not really. Not the Buffy you knew. Everything that wasn’t pure and good was burned out of me. And by the time that was done, almost none of me was left. I’m more angel than human now, much more, and the girl you used to know is gone. With as much as we have in common, she as good as died the moment Uriel moved in. So don’t try to change my mind, or appeal to me on the basis of friendship, because trying to tell me not to go out and do what I need to is going to be about as effective as telling me not to breathe. _I have to._ Do you understand? It’s not even a choice for me. It’s _destiny_.”

Buffy’s face softened suddenly at their expressions of shocked distress. She looked at Giles.

“You’re not my Watcher anymore, Giles. I don’t need one any longer. Some other girl is the Slayer, now. You should tell the Watchers back home that I died, or something. Just leave the whole angel thing out.” She looked at Willow and Xander. “It’s not that I don’t care about you guys. This is just what I have to do, now. Sort of like when I was the Slayer, except a lot more holy and less demony, and it’s what I _want_ to do.”

“What about your mother?” Giles asked. Buffy stilled.

“I’ll tell her the truth, I guess. Show her, if I need to. I owe her that much.” She gave a deprecating snort. “That’s going to go over well. _‘Hey Mom, I was turned into an angel and now I’m leaving.’_ ”

“But – what if we need you?” Willow asked desperately.

Buffy tilted her head on one side slightly.

“Pray. I _am_ an angel. Trust me, I’ll hear you.” Her face became implacable. “Stop trying to convince me to stay. Because I won’t.”

“You really won’t, will you?” Xander asked quietly, looking subdued.

“I can’t. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“But you’ll come back and visit, right?” Willow asked anxiously.

Buffy looked at them all carefully, and smiled.

“Duh. Of course, doofus.”

“Where will you go?” Like the others, Giles didn’t look like he quite accepted Buffy’s decision yet, but wanted answers.

Buffy smiled wryly.

“The one place I have a hope of fitting in, Giles. John Taylor’s country, where it’s always 3am and no one pays even an angel a second glance as long as they aren’t invading the place.”

“Good lord.” Giles took his glasses off and began to clean them. “Buffy, this decision–”

“Has been considered very carefully,” Buffy interrupted. “All night, actually. I’m far from defenceless, and I can do a lot of good, even there. Even more, maybe.” The flash of her smile was stunning in its beauty and warmth. “I’ll be fine. I know more about this then you do, Giles. Got a head full of angelic knowledge, here. So relax. I’m good.”

“But Buffy –” Giles tried one last time, and Buffy lost patience.

Shooting to her feet, Buffy’s eyes lit with holy radiance, and three pairs of sweeping wings unfolded behind her shining with unearthly light, almost spanning the width of the cathedral. The sight was amazing and intimidating.

“ _No_ , Giles.” For a moment there was nothing at all of Buffy in her expression. It was solemn and terrible. “Let it go.”

Giles just sat and stared, the reality of everything that Buffy had said hitting him all at once. Xander wore a similar expression.

Willow stared at her friend with a look of dismay and grief.

“The Buffy we knew really is gone, isn’t she?”

Buffy nodded sorrowfully.

There was a sudden clatter, and everyone turned to see the priest of the cathedral standing there with his mouth open in shock, his eyes riveted on Buffy. A set of metal candlesticks were at his feet where he’d dropped them.

Buffy smiled ruefully, and the wings folded away into nothing.

“Come on, guys, we should probably go somewhere else. I could use some breakfast. Anyone else up for pancakes?”

“Pancakes?” Giles spluttered. “After everything you’ve just told us, you want _pancakes?_ ”

Buffy gave him a sad smile.

“Why not, Giles? I won’t be leaving for a while yet, so e can talk about this some more, if we really have to. And right now, I’ve had a – a really long night, and I could really do with some pancakes for breakfast.”

“Fine,” said Giles reluctantly. “We can get pancakes. But this discussion isn’t over.”

Buffy smiled again. It wasn’t as sad as before.

“If you guys say so. Come on, let’s go. I want to hear what all of you got up to last night while I was busy clearing all the vamps and demons out of this town.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Incidentally, an awesome Nightside/Buffy crossover is [A Walk on the Hellmouth](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4281392/1/A-Walk-on-the-Hellmouth), for those who are interested.


End file.
